


Won't Have to Miss You

by lycheeloving



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen, Storm/Wolverine Week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2405555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lycheeloving/pseuds/lycheeloving
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan wakes up, and once again he's a man living with lost memories - about forty years' worth of history gone in a flash. But this time, he would have help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. dawn

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Storm/Wolverine Week, and each chapter will be in response to a particular prompt. I actually wasn't planning to do a movieverse fic for RoLo Week, but seeing that deleted scene from DoFP ("Farewell to Logan") threw me in for a loop. So this will be taking it as canon!

**_dawn ;_ **

Logan didn't know what to expect once he'd woken up in the right body, in the right year. They'd told him that the mission wasn't even a sure thing - yes he could fix everything, but he could also just as well fix nothing.

Thankfully, it seemed that it had worked, for the most part. Things had gone back to what passed for normal: the school had never closed down, and people he thought he'd never see again were alive and well. And Logan was once again a man living with lost memories, about forty years of history gone in a flash.

But this time, he had help.

"Of course, we can't technically help you with _everythin_ '," Rogue was saying, tucking her long hair back behind her ears. "Just the mem'ries you've made here ever since Scott and 'Roro picked you an' me up from the back of your burnin' pick-up. But that's ages an' ages, so we've got a lot to cover."

They were sitting in his office (he had an _office)_ with his class records open across his desk. Ms. Marie was the substitute History teacher for the morning class because of how well she'd done with the subject matter when she'd been a student ten years ago, but also because supposedly he'd personally asked her to help him get up to speed with his lesson plan once he woke up from the seventies.

Apparently, as Logan had come to find out shortly after he walked into Charles' office that first day back, they'd been prepared for this. A couple of years ago, Charles and Hank had come clean about the first time they'd both truly met Logan, in 1973. Just as Logan had a hard time convincing them of his story from the future, they'd had a difficult time convincing everyone about this story of a time travelling Wolverine. Kitty herself couldn't bring herself to believe it - her powers were not even remotely telepathic. But, as only the Professor could, he brought them around eventually. And so, despite not knowing the exact date of Logan's return to them, they'd prepared as best as they could.

Wolverine had never really been one for keepsakes. But as he was startled to find, his room had a few photo albums from the last couple of years, several mementos from various trips and even a journal or two tucked into the bookshelf lining his bedroom wall. Several of the mansion's residents had similar tokens and pictures of him as well, and all of them were only too happy to help him recover or relive the memories that his former self had made with them.

Naturally, Logan balked at the idea of spending so much time with so many people at once. It seemed that though they were advised to give him space, many of them still wanted to get to know him and this strange, apocalyptic alternate time that they had parts in. What was it like? What were they like? Did they have other powers too? What had they been doing?

"Dead or dying or fighting for your lives," he'd been tempted to say. So far only Hank knew about his other self's fate, and that was only because Logan'd told him on impulse when they were facing off with Magneto back in Washington. He managed to hold off from telling the others, about what that timeline had made them and how dark and ugly it truly got for them all. He didn't know how he'd ever be able to tell those of them that'd died how it happened, or if he would ever tell them at all. So he answered their questions with a measure of caution.

He couldn't even look Jean in the eye without getting a flash of the last time he'd seen her, broken and bleeding and pleading with him _to kill me Logan please please save me_ -

He shut his eyes at the shudder that ran through his body from the memory.

Beside him, Rogue looked at him in concern. "- Logan? Y'okay?" When he didn't answer, she reached out to the books spread between them, closing them gently and unobtrusively, while keeping a concerned eye on him. "... We don't gotta finish this right this minute, y'know. Maybe pick this up tomorrow?" She paused for a tick, frowning when he didn't answer. "... Logan?"

"... Yeah." He managed, finally. Nodded and caught his breath. "Yeah. Tomorrow. Sounds good."

"Good." She masked her worry with a bit of a smile. "Y'gonna be okay?"

Logan looked up, his grin a bit more sincere than he'd intended. It was gratifying to know that even today, in this other timeline, Marie still got how he worked. Anyone else would be smothering him with worry. Marie could express her concern without positively drowning him in it, and that was more reassuring than words could say.

"Sure. Y'know me, kid." He reached out, cuffed her shoulder. She grinned. "Tougher than most."

"Alright, tough guy." She laughed, gathering books and pens as she stood up. "I'll see ya tomorrow, okay? Same time, same place, etcetera."

He checked the time, then arched an eyebrow at her. "Aren'tcha gonna be at dinner?"

Her cheeks pinked. "Nope. Actually, it's good we finished early. I'm supposed ta be gettin' ready for a night out with Bobby."

"Out?" He frowned. Wasn't it a school night? Didn't the school have rules about that? "For what?"

"It's their anniversary, Logan," spoke a new voice from his door. Logan glanced up, knowing who it was without having to look. "They've got reservations at the pier."

Rogue smiled brightly. "'Roro, hey! What's up?"

"Hello, Rogue," Ororo replied, smiling warmly. "Kitty sent me. I've been instructed to inform you two that she's officially cutting your, and I quote, afterschool pow-wow, in the name of romance and curling irons everywhere." Ororo raised her brows high for a beat, then chuckled. "Though I see I wasn't needed after all."

Logan rolled his eyes, answering before he realized he had something to say: "We're always gonna need you, 'Ro."

Ororo startled, looking at him in surprise.

"... Aaaand that's my cue ta exit," Rogue muttered under her breath, ducking out the door. "Ah'll catch y'all later!"

Thankful for the brief distraction, Ororo took a moment to watch the younger woman zip out the office with a fond smile and a shake of the head. "That girl..."

Meanwhile, Logan was looking anywhere else but at the weather witch in his office. Unfortunately his eyes strayed to the picture frame sitting on his desk. He'd turned it to face slightly away from him a couple days ago, because he hadn't had the heart to stuff it into a drawer with the rest of the other framed mementos that had littered his desk previously.

It was a photo of him and Ororo. They were sitting on a high branch of a tall tree, facing away from the camera and apparently absorbed in whatever conversation they'd been caught up in. The sky behind them was awash in blues and pale oranges - a sunrise.

"... Sam took that," Ororo said softly, when she followed his gaze to the photo. "You and I took him and some others on a survival trip in the Rockies a few years ago. If I remember correctly, this was just when Kitty decided that if there was any truth to Charles and Henry's story, we would need a collection of Wolverine mementos." She smiled briefly, remembering how much Logan had come to hate having his picture taken when it became a sudden trend among their teammates. "You threatened to gut whoever took any photos of you on that trip. Naturally, the kids decided to take it as a challenge..."

Despite himself, Logan grinned. 'A few years ago', he'd been sneaking into a Sentinel warehouse with Storm and a few others, intent on sabotaging their production line before they add to their ever growing fleet. It had worked, though at great cost to their team roster...

He picked up the frame, tilting it at an angle so he could study the picture further. He and Ororo were sitting apart, but she had her head tilted slightly towards his, as if to whisper something in secret. He wondered what it was she'd said to him.

"... So what happened to Sam?" He asked, more casually than he felt.

"Pardon?"

He put the frame back down. "You said I'd gut whoever took any pictures o'me. Did I tan his hide or what?"

"Oh," Ororo chuckled. "No, of course not. Not for lack of threatening to, of course. But I believe that was also when they would finally come to learn that your bark was far worse than your bite." She smiled at him fondly and the sight was so achingly familiar to him that Logan was grinning back before he could help himself.

A beat passed before Ororo finally spoke again, clearing her throat. "... Anyway, I was supposed to tell you that dinner's on the table, and to ask if you were up for joining us, tonight?"

He'd been avoiding eating with everyone else for the last couple of days. He was getting the hang of talking to people he thought dead, but being in the same room with them all at the same time, was pushing it, even for him.

With Storm, it was a little different. He spent the better part of the last ten or so years at her side, even after the X-Men had been forced to break off into smaller groups all over the world. In effect, he was comfortable with her in a way that he wasn't with the others, even the Professor. She may not have been the same woman he left behind, and as far as he'd figured, the two of them weren't even _together_ in this timeline... but it was getting harder and harder to watch his words (and his actions) around her.

"Could use a night out, to be honest," he finally answered, shrugging. She masked her disappointment well, but he hadn't been friends with her for years for nothing. "Why don't you come with, though? Dunno if I know the city as well as I used to."

She gave him a half-smile. "It is a school night, you know."

"Didn't stop Rogue and Bobby," He pointed out, rolling his eyes. She hesitated for a few more seconds. "C'mon. I'll even try to be back by curfew."

That did it; she chuckled and shook her head. "Fine. But we're taking my car. And let me change into something a little more appropriate, alright?"

He grinned.


	2. distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He keeps a careful, measured distance between them when they're together.

**_distance ;_ **

He keeps a careful, measured distance between them when they're together.

Logan being Logan, this was not unusual. He had always kept most people at an arms' length for the most part. Over the years, he'd found a few exceptions had wormed their way into his space - an arm around Marie's shoulder, a hearty pat on the back for Hank, a cuff on the shoulder for Petey... Naturally, they didn't happen on a day to day basis, and not usually where others could see.

Ororo had been an exception too, as far as most were concerned. Or at least, she had been. The others tried not to mention anything, but it was hard to miss. The New Logan was keeping everyone at several arms' length for now, and no one could blame him, but it seemed so much more pronounced when he was with her.

"He's just so - so _careful_ with you," he overheard Jean saying one night. He was heading back to his bedroom when he heard her voice drift down the hall to him. She and Scott had their room just a little bit down the hall from his (their teenage son Nathan had the one directly across his own.) and she must have left the door ajar or something.

"Careful?" Ororo's soft voice replied. Even from where he stood out in the hall, he could hear the faint smile in her voice.

"Yes," Jean continued. "I mean, aside from the Professor, he seems most comfortable with you and Marie, for _some reason_." Logan allowed himself a brief grin as he listened in. Jean was as curious about the new Logan's timeline as the others were, but she kept her eagerness fairly well concealed out of respect to him. Something she didn't have to do behind closed doors, apparently. "... But it's almost as if - as if he's keeping himself in check with you, you know?"

"Mmm. I suppose."

Logan heard a soft _thwap_. He guessed a pillow or something similarly soft and throwable had been chucked at her. Ororo was chuckling.

"Oh, you know what I mean!" Jean said. Then her voice softened. "It's different. When he's talking to me, it's almost like there's this... disbelief in his eyes. He does it with Scott, too. I mean, with less touching, of course, because he keeps reaching out to my hair - can you believe that? He hasn't done that in fifteen years!" Jean paused, and Logan imagined her raising her brows at Ororo. "It's like he can't believe we're here... and I hate to think about what that means."

"... But with you there's this sense of, of restraint, I think. It's as if he's consciously holding himself back." There was a pause, and then a rustle of bed sheets and cloth. "... And it's just so different from what we're used to with you guys."

Logan headed into his room then, shutting the door behind him. The sound of their voices was reduced to a dull murmur, one he'd have to focus really hard on to understand. It was still more than most could hear, but he wasn't in the mood to make an effort.

He hadn't expected them not to notice keeping apart from everyone, so he wasn't bothered by that. What he wasn't expecting was that sort of reaction from Jean (or from anyone, really) with regards to him and Storm and how they I else did to be. Actually, near as he could tell, he and this Storm hadn't even been more than friends. Or were they? He thought he knew, and had been preparing himself to just deal with it.

He sat on his bed, clenching and unclenching his fists, deep in thought. Jean had been right; he did have to keep himself in check whenever he was around Storm. It would have been so easy for him to fall back to old habits where 'Ro was concerned. Sometimes it was wanting to grab her and pin her to the nearest wall - but more often than not it was just an urge to squeeze her arm when he was struck with an idea, or to brush his fingers against hers when they said hello, when they said goodbye... Little, familiar gestures that he'd previously taken for granted. He'd been so sure that this 'Ro wouldn't have appreciated him being so familiar with her.

Now, he wasn't so sure. And he didn't know if that should bother him or make him smile.


	3. shoulder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She could see how he looked at her. But, she wondered, what did he see, when she looked at him?

**shoulder ;**

"I'll see ya later, Hank." Logan waved a cigar over his shoulder as he stepped out of the kitchen and into the crisp night air. Charles was as strict as ever about smoking within the school grounds, so he'd decided to have his cigar out in the backyard. Hank waved back, chuckling to himself quietly. This new Logan had his differences from the one that he had come to know, but in many ways it seemed they were exactly the same.

Hank rose from the seat he'd taken at the kitchen table, stretching his joints with a mighty yawn. It was late; he and Logan had lost track of time while catching him up on the mansion's security and tech outfit. Hank and Forge were the brains behind most of the tech around the Institute, but they'd always kept Scott and Logan in the know about how it all worked together. With Logan's memories gone, it had been up to Hank to get him back up to speed. Thankfully, Logan was as quick a learner as he'd always been. It was taking long, but, to Hank's surprise and pleasure, not any longer than it should have.

Hank was just gathering his things together - a slim tablet, a holo-emitter, an old-fashioned manila folder - when a voice spoke up from behind him.

"I see you two had a late night." Hank looked up and spotted Ororo by the door that opened into the hall. She was still dressed in her "teacher clothes", neatly tailored slacks and a ruffled blouse buttoned all the way up, though he was pleased to see that she'd at least left her blazer undone. She walked over to join him by the table.

"Yes, well, we had quite a bit to cover..." Hank said, smiling and shrugging one shoulder.

"As well as a few to drink?" Ororo lifted one of the empty beer cans that he and Logan had gone through together earlier that night. She gave him a teasing grin and he reached out to tap her on the nose playfully.

"Minx." Hank chuckled as she gave him a cheeky smile. "We only had a few, my dear. Not that it matters overly much; Logan's tolerance for his microbrew of choice is as high as ever." He grinned back, moving to help her collect the cans. "Rather curious, really; physiologically he is exactly as he was a few short weeks ago..."

Hank let the second half of that statement go unsaid; Ororo knew just as well what he meant, after all. But he looked up just in time to see her lingering smile turn into a thoughtful frown. She took the cans to the recycling bin under the sink, tossing them all in before she spoke up again, quietly:

"How is he, Henry? Really?"

Hank regarded his friend sympathetically. She still had her back turned to him, busying herself with straightening out dishtowels, putting abandoned bowls into the dishwasher...

"He is adjusting, Ororo." He said at length. "It is taking time, naturally, but he is getting there." Hank took the last of the cans over to her, tossing them in. Not liking the pensive look her expression had taken on, he tried for a bit of levity. "But I think you would know; you seem to loosen his tongue when precious few of us can claim the same... In a manner of speaking, of course."

Ororo's cheeks caught a hint of pink and she shot him a brief look, reproachful and sly all at once. " _Hank_."

"What?" He put his hands up innocently. "It's true."

Ororo shook her head, trying (and failing) not to roll her eyes. Hank counted that as a win, short-lived as it was.

"It's just..." she began again, and this time Hank could hear the slight hitch to her voice, "He's different, yes, but when I look at him..." She trailed off, glancing outside. Logan had walked a fair distance away from the mansion for his smoke, but he was near enough that she could just make out his figure in the darkness, as well as the glowing end of his cigar.

The worst part, she felt, was looking at him and seeing two men: the Logan at present, and an echo of the Logan from before. She didn't mean to, but she compared and contrasted them on instinct - cataloging their similarities and differences before she even realized what she was doing.

Neither Logan deserved that. But at the same time... was it fair to simply forget the one that had left them when he hadn't had any say in the matter?

She felt a hand rest on her shoulder - heavy, but its weight was comforting and familiar. Ororo looked up to find Hank smiling gently at her. "It's alright, you know. I imagine he feels much the same way when he looks at us." He paused. "And at you."

Ororo fell silent. She knew how he looked at her; she wasn't blind. She didn't know the story behind it, wasn't sure if she wanted to know, and wasn't sure he wanted her to know.

But, she wondered, what did he see in her, when she looked at him?

"You should talk to him, my friend." Hank prodded gently when she had nothing to say.

"We _have_ been talking-"

But Hank shook his head. "He talks to you about what his world was like, and you tell him of ours. But have you talked about, well, yourselves?"

Ororo paused, and sighed. "... Even if there was an _us_ for him, Henry, there wasn't an _us_ for me."

Hank gave her a look. "Wasn't there?"

She looked away, biting back the reply that hovered on her lips.

"Have faith, Ororo. Talk to him," Hank urged again, patting her shoulder. He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, and it lifted her spirits enough to give him a small smile.

"I'll try."


	4. liminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the first time he'd admitted it out loud to anyone, in this time.

**liminal;**

Logan hadn't moved much from where he'd paused, out in the back lawn. It was as clean and well-maintained as he remembered it being, though there were a few changes that were hard to miss. He lingered over one particular spot - empty in this timeline, but in his...

Her footsteps were light and silent behind him, but Logan sensed her before she could make it to where he stood. Automatically he put out his cigar before she could get even get a hello out to him.

Ororo smiled at the gesture, both thoughtful and familiar.

"It's late," she said, when she was close enough to speak without having to raise her voice.

Logan shrugged, turning to face her. "I'm a bit of a night owl."

 _'I know_ ,' she almost says, but caught herself in time. She gave a nod instead. "You keep coming out here, in the evenings."

"Yeah?" He figured someone would notice sooner or later. Logan looked away, back to a patch of meticulously maintained grass a couple of feet away.

Another nod. "Was there something else here, in your time?"

"... There used t'be," He said, finally. "Back when we still had the school, anyway." He tucked his cigar into his jacket. "I wasn't around when they closed it down back in '12. 'Ro said- ... you said you had 'em exhumed before you had ta leave, but I never gotta chance to find out where..."

Ororo paused for a moment, not expecting that answer. She thought, perhaps, another building, another wing for the school. But just the thought of having to bury any of her friends and family made her breath still. Logan must have caught on to the subtle shock settling over her body.

"- That was years ago though. An' obviously kind of a moot point now, eh?" he chuckled, wanting to put some levity back into their conversation. It came out fairly humorless, so he just turned to look away.

Ororo reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder. To his credit, Logan didn't flinch away. He did freeze though, and tried not to think of his last memory of Ororo reaching out to him in the darkness, of her eyes shining with tears that she tried so hard to keep from falling...

"I'm sorry."

Logan shook his head. "... Don't be. Like I said, it ain't even an issue here."

"That doesn't mean you hadn't mourned them." Ororo pulled her hand away as she stepped up to stand next to him. She clasped her hands together looking at the place Logan had been staring so intently at, trying to imagine graves lining the ground...

Logan meanwhile kept his eyes on her. Why had she come out here?

"To keep you company," She said, and Logan realized he'd spoken out loud. She gave him a small smile. "Like I said, you've been coming out here in the evenings quite a bit; I thought you might need a friend. I guess I was right."

"Heh." Same old Ororo, he figured. He often wondered if she wasn't a telepath...

They fell silent again, quietly contemplating the clean patch of grass before them. Ororo tried to imagine what it looked like, how many graves, who it was that they buried here... but at the same time, she couldn't quite bring herself to pry...

"... Jean," Logan said suddenly, gesturing with a nod to one side. "An' Scott, we buried next to her. An' the Prof was over there, for a while."

Ororo blinks, incredulity overcoming her sudden surge of sadness at the thought of having to bury her best friends. "... ' _For a while_ '?"

Logan let out a snicker. "Yeah. Long story. I'll tell ya about it some time."

She shook her head, finding herself smiling back a little.

"... But the school closed down after that; hadda hand it over to Trask 'cuz of some red tape an' bullshit." Logan's voice lost its melancholy tone and took on a slight edge. "The riots got worse, and the team split up. We lost Warren; his family took him to their personal plot upstate. And Hank..." Logan trailed off as it always did, when they talked about Hank. Ororo impulsively reached out to rest her hand on his arm, and this time he reached up to squeeze her fingers in his hand. "Old Blue's family asked for his body back. Had a closed casket funeral back in Georgia..."

Logan was silent for a long time, holding onto the memory.

"... After Hank, we didn't exactly have the luxury of funerals," he finally said, at length. "But we remembered them all."

"We?"

A nod. "You an' me."

"You and me," she echoed, drawing her hand back to herself.

Logan couldn't really look at her, so he kept his eyes on the grass before him. "... Even after we had to split up into smaller groups, you and me - we stuck together."

Ororo nodded. He'd said so before, when he'd given them the basic run down of history as he himself had known it. But the way he said it now...

"I'm glad you had each other," she said quietly. She gave him a smile when he turned to look at her. "She... you must have had something special."

He shrugged. "... We've always had something special, 'Ro. It just... it took us years to realize that it was something maybe a bit more than two people working so damn well together." He shook his head. It was the first time he'd admitted it out loud to anyone, in this time. It should have been easy to sound bitter when he spoke of her while standing next to the woman who had her face and her body and her smile and her quirks and her gentle laughter, but none of the shared memories. And yet the best he could muster was a distant sense of longing...

Ororo said nothing, turning her gaze to the distance as well. She folded her arms, and let a small smile grace her lips.

"Is that all?" she asked with a chuckle that made him look at her. "It doesn't sound all that different from what we had here, if you ask me."

"... Yeah?" He lifted an eyebrow, not sure if she was teasing or - was it too much to hope that maybe, in this time, they had...?

Ororo's smile was small, but sure.

"Perhaps we had more in common than we realized."


End file.
